


Don't Start None, Won't Be None

by robinwritesallthethings



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers (Comic)
Genre: Action, Bombs, Drinking, F/M, Injury, Language, Masturbation, Medication, Romance, Series, Sex, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 19:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinwritesallthethings/pseuds/robinwritesallthethings
Summary: The Losers are on the run after their last mission in Bolivia, but revenge finally becomes an option when Clay’s wife catches up to them.





	Don't Start None, Won't Be None

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay can’t stand January “Jinx” Jensen, Jake’s twin sister. At least, that’s what he thinks…

Clay and Jensen stand across the street from Clay’s car. Jensen crosses his arms over his chest and eyes the vehicle skeptically.

“It just didn’t go off?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Clay confirms.

“Why not?” Jensen wonders.

“How the fuck should I know, Jensen? I’m not a bomb guy.”

“Why did she put a bomb in your car, anyway?”

Clay grimaces and scuffs the ground with his toe. “That’s a long story.”

Jensen shrugs. “Well, I’ve got someone I can call. It won’t take her long to get here.”

“Just call Roque. He’s good at this shit.”

“He’s okay at this shit, Colonel. Remember Guatemala? I almost lost a foot. You want more than okay.”

“Fine. Just get her here so I can go home.”

****

When Jensen’s contact arrives, she is not what Clay is expecting.

She roars up on a very loud motorcycle wearing an ostentatious neon pink leather jacket, her short unruly black corkscrew curls blowing in the breeze. When she parks the bike and shuts it off, she basically has to leap to the sidewalk because she’s so short; Clay guesses that she doesn’t even clear five feet.

She pushes her aviators up onto her forehead with her thumb and blows a giant gum bubble. It snaps when it pops and Clay rolls his eyes, thoroughly unimpressed by her tight ripped jeans and boots that are being held together by zebra print duct tape.

“This is your expert?” he mutters to Jensen, surprised when she marches right over to him and stares up into his annoyed hazel eyes with her narrowed blue ones.

“This is your boss?” she mutters to Jensen, mimicking Clay’s sarcastic tone. Clay huffs when she smacks him in the chest and laughs. “What, do the top eighteen buttons on your shirt not work?”

“Colonel, this is my twin sister, January Jensen. Jany, this is Colonel Franklin Clay.”

“I fucking hate it when you call me Jany,” she retorts. “Jinx, Jake. Jinx.”

“Jinx? As in bad luck? Great.” Clay runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily.

“Don’t be a drama queen, Clay,” Jinx replies easily.

“Colonel,” Clay corrects her through gritted teeth.

Jinx brushes him off. “Considering that I’m about to disarm your bomb, I’d say I’m the good kind of charm.” She glances across the street. “Is that the car?”

“Yup.” Jensen nods.

“Be right back.”

Jinx skips across the street, drops to the pavement, and rolls easily under the vehicle, humming “Back in Black” by AC/DC the entire time.

“She’s not even going to ask me about it first?” Clay complains.

“Why?” Jinx hollers. “I bet you don’t know dick about bombs, Clay!”

“Colonel!” he growls.

Jensen wisely stifles his laughter, though he’s enjoying seeing someone get under Clay’s skin.

Jinx emerges from under the car, holding a small device in her hand. Clay winces as she throws it at him, but he catches it anyway.

“Dead,” she announces. “That was easy.” She punches her brother in the shoulder. “Next time you call me, why don’t you make it worth my while?”

She hops back on her motorcycle and revs it up. “Bye, Clay!” she yells.

“Colonel!” he calls after her.

She raises her hand, flipping him off as she drives away.

****

Clay would have been very happy to never see Jinx again after that day, but for some reason, she keeps popping up like a bad penny.

One evening, she arrives to give Jensen a lift while Clay is outside smoking a cigarette.

She joins him, pulling the cigarette from between his lips and taking a long drag on it, blowing the smoke directly into his face.

“This shit’ll kill ya, you know,” she teases, dropping the butt and grinding it out beneath her boot.

Clay bites his lip and just stares at her angrily.

“Grumpy old man.” Jinx gets back on her bike as Jensen exits the building.

“Bye, Clay!” she taunts him, leaving him shaking his head in disgust.

****

A week later, Clay is drinking with Jensen and the rest of his team when Jinx joins them.

“You invited her?” he groans.

“She’s my sister.”

“And the most infuriating woman on the planet,” Clay grumbles, going to sit by himself at the bar.

He’s four whiskeys deep when she comes and stands next to him, leaning back against the counter as she reaches out and squeezes his bicep.

“Jake told me that a woman put that bomb under your car. You must be quite a lay, Colonel.”

He’s just drunk enough to be flattered by her use of his preferred moniker, so he turns on the charm and smirks. “Are you looking to sample, sweetheart?”

Jinx grins unexpectedly and winks at Clay. “You owe me ten bucks, Jake!” she crows triumphantly. “Thanks, Clay.”

She kisses his cheek and leaves him to escort himself home.

Once he’s there, Clay tangles himself up in his sheets, trying to ignore his raging hard-on.

He could have gone home with somebody else. It would have been easy enough to find someone willing.

But, quite suddenly, he doesn’t want anyone but her.

He gives up and reaches down, jerking himself vigorously in his rough palm.

He tries not to picture her heart-shaped face, her high cheekbones, and her full lips, but he fails miserably.

As he finishes all over his hand, he moans her name desperately.

“January…”

****

The next time she’s at the bar, Clay isolates himself in a booth in the corner, scowling and listing all the things he hates about her.

Her hair is too short. She’s too short. Her clothes are ridiculous. She wears too much pink. Her nickname is stupid. Her gum is loud.

She doesn’t respond to him the way other women do. She won’t call him by the right name. She makes fun of him. She’s not impressed by his job or any of his skills.

And she sucks at karaoke, he adds, listening to her attempt to sing Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide.”

Before she takes off, she stops by his table. “You okay, Colonel?”

She seems sincere, but he’s not falling for that again.

“Fuck off, January,” he sneers.

“Whatever, Clay.” She actually seems hurt.

Clay convinces himself that he doesn’t care.

****

Then she blows up.

Jensen’s on a mission out of the country, so Clay gets the notification on his behalf.

As he races to the hospital, it dawns on him that all the things he hates about her are all the things he loves about her.

He’s fumbling around the lobby trying to figure out where she is when he spots her leaning against a wall.

There’s a small butterfly bandage on her cheek, but otherwise, she seems fine.

He runs over to her, taking her gently by the shoulders. “January, are you all right?”

She giggles and shakes a bottle of very strong painkillers at him. “I hate it when people call me January,” she informs him. “Except for you. You can call me January with that deep smoky voice of yours, Colonel Sexy Chest Hair.”

Clay laughs. “Why don’t I get you home, sweetheart?”

“Only if you come too,” she insists, hugging him and snuggling close.

Clay slips her medicine into his pocket and lifts her up into his arms.

****

She’s all over him on the way back to her apartment. Clay gently resists her advances; she’s clearly in no state to consent.

She’ll only eat when he orders her favorite pizza, anchovies and green olives.

Clay tries it at her urging and thinks it tastes disgusting, but he eats two pieces anyway because she’s worried about him being hungry.

She won’t go to sleep unless he holds her. When he tries to put a pillow between their bodies, she throws it across the room.

He smiles, looping one long arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek.

He hums “Is This Love?” by Whitesnake until she falls asleep.

****

In the morning, Clay wakes up before Jinx does and slips out to the grocery store on the corner because there’s no food in her apartment.

When she wanders into the kitchen and Clay sets a plate of Eggs Benedict in front of her, she squints suspiciously.

“Did I fuck you?” she inquires bluntly. “Men usually only make me breakfast when I’ve fucked them.”

“You tried,” Clay confesses. “But no.”

She raises her eyebrows curiously and swings her foot idly. “Good,” she finally decides. “When I fuck you, I want to remember it.”

All Clay can do is grin.

****

Clay stays with her until she’s better. The doctor clears her, the painkillers are out of her system, and he drives her home one last time.

“I guess it’s time for me to get out of your hair,” he suggests slowly.

“Don’t?” Her voice is soft and just a little vulnerable.

Clay pushes her up against her door and kisses her.

****

Later, after she’s sucked and ridden him to exhaustion, she cuddles up against him, rubbing her face in his sweaty chest hair.

When she’d put him inside her, he’d gasped, “I love you, January.”

She wants to make sure it wasn’t a mistake.

“It wasn’t,” he assures her, pouting playfully. “You think I’m that easy? You think I tell every woman I love her when I enter her?”

“I thought you hated me,” she admits, ignoring his joke.

Clay runs his long fingers through her mussed curls. “I did. I’m not even really sure when it changed. Or why.”

She turns her head and kisses his wrist. “I don’t know, either. But I love you too, Franklin.”

She called him that when she came. He liked it.

“Should we tell your brother?” he muses.

Jinx snorts. “Do you want him to be even more awkward around you than he already is?”

Clay chuckles. “No, not really.”

“Then we definitely should not tell him. At least not yet.”

****

It’s been a month and a half when Clay takes her to Vegas. A preacher dressed like Elvis marries them and then they go get matching tattoos.

“I’ll get you a ring after my mission,” Clay promises.

“I don’t need a ring. Just come back in one piece.”

He picks her up and spins her around. “I love you, Mrs. Clay.”

She sticks her nose in the air haughtily. “Mrs. Colonel,” she corrects him.

He laughs happily and kisses her goodbye, promising that they’ll tell her brother together as soon as the team returns from Bolivia.


End file.
